


Still Life

by skyclectic



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyclectic/pseuds/skyclectic
Summary: I see you already sitting on the park bench, your legs crossed casually and dark glasses hiding half of your face. You say it’s an old habit back from when we were still young and famous but I know it’s because you don’t want anyone to see your cloudy eyes.It’s a waste really, because you still look as beautiful as you did 45 years ago and not even cataracts or arthritis can take that away.





	Still Life

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Super Junior 100 Fic Challenge. Prompt #68 Degradation (Kibum/Kibum).
> 
> Written and posted on helloparoxysm@livejournal on 17the December 2008.

When the alarm clock rings at 7.30 in the morning, I get out of bed gently. You’re still fast asleep and I don’t want to wake you. Besides, you look so beautiful like that, with the sunlight falling all over your face.   
  
I get dressed – one of the white shirts you bought for me when I told you I got the job. You said only successful people wear expensive white shirts with mini Ferrari cars as their cufflinks. You bought that too, on one of your impulse shopping sprees. I remember you laughed at me when I told you we shouldn’t be spending our money so recklessly.   
  
Reckless. That’s what you are. You never thought twice about dancing in the rain or lying down in the middle of the street to watch the traffic lights turn from red to green. _Live life to the fullest_ , you always tell me, with that wide smile on your face that always makes my heart clench.   
  
I leave a post-it for you on the head board. You’ll complain about that when you meet me for lunch later. Something about me being heartless to just leave a post-it and not kissing you goodbye as well. Remembering that, I bend down to kiss you.

You don’t even wake up but the corners of your lips turn up slightly. You taste like morning sunshine and your lips are soft, so soft that it feels like I’m kissing air instead.

I pull the blanket tighter around you – the one with the smiling fishes that your fans gave you a long time ago – and I leave for work.  


 

Work is boring nowadays ever since Heechul moved on. There’s no one to throw sarcastic insults at the new interns anymore and scare them until they cry. If you were here now, you’ll tell me not to think about that – about Heechul or Leeteuk or any of the others that have gone.

You tell me it’s no use thinking about the past and I agree because your eyes turn blank every time I mention one of their names and I hate how you’re looking at me but you don’t see me.   
  
Management’s put me in charge of filing the old paperwork stacked in boxes in the storeroom. It’s very boring work but at least they’re still keeping me. It’s more than I can ask for at this age.

 

 

You say I should retire and spend more time with you but we both know your pension is running out. I remember one day you took a look at your bankbook and you cried because you felt sorry that your dialysis (three times a week) and high blood pressure and weak heart costs so much.   
  
It’s 12 now and I’m supposed to meet you in an hour at the park. I get up to leave and no one stops me or asks where I am going. Young people these days – they simply can’t be bothered. A few look at me weirdly though but I ignore them. _They’re not worth bothering with_ , you said, and for once, I agree because I think you’re right and not because of the way you look when you said it. 

 

 

I pass by a hawker on my way to the park and I stop to buy us some sandwiches. Ham with extra cheese and mayo for you (even though it’s not good for your health but it’s your favourite so I get it for you anyway) and Tuna for me.   
  
I see you already sitting on the park bench, your legs crossed casually and dark glasses hiding half of your face. You say it’s an old habit back from when we were still young and famous but I know it’s because you don’t want anyone to see your cloudy eyes.

It’s a waste really, because you still look as beautiful as you did 45 years ago and not even cataracts or arthritis can take that away.  


 

I settle myself next to you and hand you your sandwich. You smile at me gratefully and your dentures gleam at me – too white.

You’re wearing one of my coats again even though it’s quite warm outside because you love the smell of me. You love the fact that all those fangirls we had last time would kill to be able to smell my cologne and only you get to do it. You catch me looking and deliberately take a whiff off the collar, grinning at me with that mischievous glint in your eye.  
  
I laugh and unwrap my sandwich, leaning comfortably against your side. You always find this hilarious. And as if on cue, you chuckle softly. You say it’s because everyone thinks you’re the one leaning on me but instead, I’m the one leaning on you for support. It’s always been that way. Me leaning on you and you supporting me.  
  
“How was your day?” you ask in between mouthfuls of Ham.  
  
“Boring,” I reply nonchalantly, taking a bite out of my sandwich. “I got through another box of documents.”  
  
Only I think my mouth was too full so it comes out all garbled and funny. You laugh at me, your eyes crinkling and something in my heart clots.   
  
“I can’t understand gibberish, love,” you say, wheezing for breath.  
  
You grin when I repeat what I said.

“How was _your_ day?” I ask.  
  
“Boring. I had nothing to do except lie in bed,” you purse your lips and turn to me. “You should just retire, Kibum. Then we can go live in the countryside with Kyuhyun and Sungmin and leave all this behind.”  
  
I stare at you for a few seconds, if only just to take in the delicate curve of your eyelashes and the fine line of your cheekbones.

“You know we can’t,” I say softly and you turn away.  
  
You know that too. We can’t possibly leave everything behind because you need the hospitals and I can’t leave my job because we’ll have no money when your pension runs out.  
  
“We can open a farm like them,” you say turning to me again, an almost hopeful look in your eyes. I remember that was the same look you gave me when you suggested we buy a house together.  
  
I sigh softly so that you can’t hear me but you would have noticed my half-parted lips anyway. I take your wrist and trace the veined lines without saying anything.  
  
“I don’t want to die alone,” you admit finally, your sandwich crumpled up into a ball by your side.  
  
“You won’t,” I tell you, pulling you closer to kiss your temple. “You’ll have me.”

  
\--------

  
(The young boy approaches the bench cautiously, his girlfriend clinging to the back of his shirt.

He stops a few steps away and they watch as the old man moves his arm and plants a kiss in mid-air – the perfect spot where someone’s temple would have been.

The old man continues to talk, his body positioned in a way that looks like he is hugging someone else – someone that he alone can see.

There is a half eaten sandwich by his side and another one on the other end of his bench.   
  
When the man makes no move to stop conversing with thin air, the boy hesitates before stepping right up to the bench. He shakes the old man’s shoulder, trying to ignore the stench coming from his unwashed clothes and the filth clotted in his hair.   
  
“Sir? Sir? Are you okay? You were talking to yourself.”)

 


End file.
